Just West Of Happy, Part 11 free porn video

Warning: This story contains MATURE THEMES including nudity, sex, sexualization, and vulgar language. Do not read if you are under 18 or if it is otherwise restricted for you to do so. If you wish to share this story, contact me at [email protected]. I will likely agree, I just want to know in advance. We're back to long-ish chapters with this rather aimless installment. I kind of felt like I could have split it into two, but I decided against it since there's no real sex in it and I didn't want to make people wait through two more parts to get to what they might have come here to read. I think you'll be able to see which way things are going for the next part, however, so I hope you'll all come back for part 12! As always, please visit me on Deviant Art at http://whimsicaltales.deviantart.com/ for more frequent updates and to keep up with my the goings on of my TG stories. Updates happen there first! Just West of Happy, Part 11 By: Whimsy For a week, I was a woman. For some reason, having Melinda put it like she did made it feel so much more final, so much more permanent. I guess I'd felt for the last day and a half of being a woman like I could go back at any time if I'd just asked. Part of me laughed at the idea of Melinda actually doing what I asked her to do, but I always felt like if things got too out of control, I could just say the safety word (had she ever actually given me a safety word?) and things would go back to normal. There was no safety word anymore. I was a woman for a week. Melinda couldn't turn me back now if she'd wanted to. And the way she was ravishing my neck with kisses, I got the feeling that she very much did not. "Do you like me better as a woman?" I asked after a moment, trying to keep the conversation vocal rather than in the universal language of grunts and moans. With it being the middle of the day, I was fairly certain someone would hear us. Besides that, though we'd had a few sexual encounters with me in this female form, I still didn't feel comfortable in it. The more she kissed me, the more she ravished me, the stranger I felt-squishy and wet, warm and moist all at once. When I'd gotten used to the swift intensity and rapid release of male arousal, this new just-peed-my-pants feeling of my female arousal still just felt weird. Melinda sighed. "Ione--" she began in a grumbling voice. She stopped her ministrations and gave me an exasperated look. "I'm being serious," I interrupted. "I mean, I know I was worried before, but...if you prefer me like this," I let my voice trail off. "I don't know what I prefer," Melinda said, exasperated, thunking her head on my chest in exasperation. "Can't we just have fun in the moment without thinking about it?" She gave me a grin then and I felt her hand snake under the waistband of my jeans. I jumped a bit in surprise and fought marginally, "C-Can't we get something to eat?" I asked suddenly. Far from being angry or disappointed, Melinda seemed to be amused by this reaction she had on me. "I can think of something I wouldn't mind eating," she mused aloud. I felt her flick the button of my jeans open. I quickly scrambled out from under her, expecting her to pin me to the bed (she was a lot stronger than she looked where sex was involved), but I was surprised to see that she neither pinned me nor pursued me. In fact, she just rolled on the bed with a mirthful cackle. I scowled a bit. I couldn't tell what was worse, her insatiable sexual appetite or the teasing about her insatiable sexual appetite. Just when I thought she was going to force herself on me, she always left me hanging-and a little bit disappointed. She was already heading for the door and I couldn't do anything but stare at her with my jaw slightly agape and my innards cooling like they'd had a bucket of ice dropped into them. Besides that, I still wasn't sure I'd forgiven her for what had happened in the bathroom. She claimed, at least as I understood it, that there was a disconnect for her between love and sex, that sex meant nothing more than some sort of necessary physical release, but it was hard for me to imagine anyone thinking like this-though clearly she must (or claimed to)-- especially a woman for whom sex was so significant. My own thoughts fumbled suddenly as I remembered all those days in high school health class when the teacher warned the girls in the class with almost severe insistence of just what would (not could, would) happen if they had sex. Sure, there were risks for the boys, but these seemed inexorably linked to the girl's risks and having to deal with them. After all, you didn't see girls passing on some irrevocable consequence to the boys and then disappearing to let them deal with it. No, pregnancy was something the boy of the relationship could quite easily escape from while being quite inescapable for the girl. I felt my hand clutching my stomach, my eyes wide. Inescapable for me. I hardly even noticed that we'd been walking down the stairs of the dorm towards the entrance. For the first time, I didn't notice how the boys reacted to my passing, any jeers or catcalls they might or might not have aimed at us, or really much of anything. I'd been too lost in my thoughts. Melinda seemed to have been watching me, however, for she spoke and snapped me from my reverie. "Something wrong, sweety?" she asked in a saccharine voice, wrapping her arms around mine and heedless of the looks this act might have attracted (though this in and of itself wasn't necessarily strange, girls seemed a lot clingier with each other than boys, I'd noticed). "N-Nothing," I said suddenly. I realized my gait was stiff and unnatural and I must have been looking around as if I expected an attack from every possible angle. "Something's worrying you~" Melinda sang, poking my bony waist playfully. "I order you to tell me! Your mistress demands it!" she cried in a voice so resonating that everyone in the campus must have looked in our direction. Certainly everyone in the vicinity did. I turned a rather sickly shade of pale pink, but found myself compelled to speak. She knew me too well. She knew I would never talk about my concerns willingly. "I-was just thinking about what might happen if I had sex," I blurted out. That pale pink turned into a lovely shade of crimson. This was the first time, believe it or not, that I'd actually thought about the act as a woman. I'd been far too concerned with the act of actually becoming a woman- actually being a woman-the strangeness and alienness of it. Sure, I'd thought about it in a detached, twice-removed way when George had tried to- well, I still had a hard time truly admitting to myself what he'd been trying to do. It was this difficulty that sort of detached the act for me. Maybe I'd convinced myself he was just going to beat me up and take my lunch money. Either way, this morning had been the first time I'd seen another man's penis. I mean, I must have on occasion when looking up "research material" online, but they hardly stood out in my mind. After all, they hadn't been what I'd gone looking to see. But it was safe to say I noticed the boy's this morning. It was hard not to with it coming at my face with such need and ferocity. Maybe that's what made it strike home for me, that this man had seen me as a woman, that he'd become hard at the sight of my body, a hardness that was, on an instinctive, primal level, tied to the act of copulation. Of sex. Melinda beamed, as a mother might if their child came up with the answer to a particularly difficult math question, "We could arrange that if you want," she said with a sly smile. "N-No!" I shrieked, my head whipping around almost comically. Suddenly, every man (few of whom were actually taking notice in us though I still, as always, felt myself the center of attention) was a potential assailant. "There's no avoiding it forever," she replied easily, holding up a finger with a sage nod. "Remember what I said: 'I'm not making it easy on you. You're getting the whole shebang,'" she suddenly grinned. "Remember? She bang? That was goo--" "I remember," I cut her off suddenly, "but you're not going to--" I had just looked at her when I began to ask that question and her expression told me very well what she was going to do. That pit in my stomach reopened, fangs and all, and had a feast on my innards. It was kind of funny, really. The way I was acting on the walk to the cafeteria, you'd think Melinda was looking around for a prime candidate and was going to tell me to strip naked and fuck him. Then again, she didn't do much to assuage my worry. "That guy looks huge," she'd said at one point, pointing to a random man with big arms and a barrel chest that walked by. "I'll bet he would be fun." Needless to say, I didn't have much of an appetite when we arrived at the cafeteria. What little appetite I had, however, fled the moment I heard a familiar voice calling out a still-unfamiliar name. "Ione!" I rubbernecked around the cafeteria, looking for the person who'd called me. It was weird, no one would have even known my male name and that meant, by my understanding, that no one should have known my female name. Then I realized with a sinking feeling that there was one person who actually would have known. Two people, really. Phil was waving me down, his tray filled to almost spilling with chili- cheese fries and a trio of hotdogs. Sitting next to him was Rich, his nose in a book that looked like a textbook but had a picture of a scantily clad woman with a broadsword on the cover. One of his game rulebooks, I guessed, though I'd never understood them much myself. I hesitated, unable to wrap my head around what was happening. Melinda, however, waved and beamed at the boys who seemed dumbstruck when they saw her, "Who are those guys?" she asked, seeming to find it completely natural that someone would be calling to me. She clearly didn't realize that these were probably the only two people in the world besides my family that even knew my name. I tried to force a weak smile onto my face and hide my discomfort as I spasmed my hand in something of a wave towards them as I muttered, "My friends. I think. How do they know me?" "Ione," Melinda tutted in a slightly patronizing tone, "remember the normalization? Everyone who knew you as a man is going to know you as a woman." "But these guys-they don't even know how to talk to women!" I hissed. Of course, neither had I, but I tried to shake that out of my head. "How could we even be friends?" How the hell would Ione-I have been friends with them?" All I could think about was how they would be staring at my tits all day or making awkward come-ons to me. Unlike myself, Rich and Phil fancied themselves more suave with the ladies. I'd seen them operate. It was disgusting. I had a hard time being around them when a woman was involved. I couldn't help but think how much I would have preferred to interact with my male self, given the option. Oh, they were harmless, and I had always thought that, had they gotten past the awkward introductory stage, they probably would have doted on a girl and made them quite happy (if only because they would be afraid the girl would leave for greener pastures the first chance they got). But they certainly didn't make a good first impression. Melinda seemed to mull this over and I once again got the impression that she was figuring these things out as they went. I realized how our hushed whispers must have looked to them, for they were looking slightly troubled by my awkwardness and unresponsiveness, so I gave them what I hoped was a slightly more genuine smile and a wave that I hoped conveyed the message that I would be there shortly. Whatever they were, they were still my friends and, however tentative I was about how they would act around me, I was still somewhat relieved to have something familiar. "Well," Melinda finally spoke aloud as I pulled her towards the food lines, paying for her from my wallet that she generously left in the back pocket of my jeans and showing my student ID for myself, which, as Melinda had said, clearly showed a female face when the attendant looked it over, for we were not stopped, "it seems like the magic is unable to simply delete or create relationships, though I'm only guessing on that last part. There's no legitimate reason that George," she was unable to keep a bit of that spite from her voice as she spoke his name, "should have known your name at all, but he did. I guess your buddies over there are probably still friends with you, they'll just remember everything they did with the male you as being done with a female you instead." I shuddered, "You don't think they..." my voice trailed off as I looked over my shoulder at the pair of them in the corner of the dining hall, talking to each other in hushed tones. "We should totally find out," Melinda said, guessing what I was going to ask with a wide, mischievous grin splitting her features as she hastily gathered food from the buffet-style spread. It wasn't what you would call haute cuisine, but Melinda hardly seemed to care. In fact, though her stated intent had been to get breakfast despite it being well past noon at this point, she was slopping everything from pancakes to mashed potatoes and gravy to jello to spaghetti on her plate with reckless abandon. If the past day had been any indication, of course, she would likely eat it all with abandon. Having lost my appetite but unwilling to admit why, I grabbed some soup, salad, and half a sandwich. I neither knew nor cared what types of soup, salad, and sandwich they were, nor the quality (though if I'd stopped to think about it, I would have guessed lousy). I simply didn't want the whirlwind food-gatherer that was Melinda to get too far ahead of me. Despite the discrepancies in our piles of food, Melinda very nearly reached the table with Phil and Rich first. She had already slid into her seat before I even managed to put my tray down. Phil and Rich were staring at her, and I suddenly regretted this trip to the dining hall very much. "Hey guys!" Melinda said cheerily, thrusting her hand out at them. "Melinda." They looked at each other before Phil took her hand in his greasy digits, "I'm Phillip J. Thomas, masterful story weaver and all around stud!" he said with a tragic air of pompous haughtiness. "This is my associate and contemporary, Richard Michaels." "Charmed," Rich said with what I assumed was supposed to be a suave air. I was mortified. Melinda was positively beaming. "Such charmers!" she laughed, and I was shocked to hear there was not an ounce of patronizing or mockery in her tone. They beamed at me with pride, clearly not thinking it strange that their dramatic introductions had charmed the girl and having no idea how sick it made me to watch them hitting on and oggling my girlfriend. I wondered for a moment if they knew I was gay, if they suspected at all that this girl I was with was actually my girlfriend. The way they were oggling her, I sincerely doubted it. Or, rather, I hoped not. "Hey," Rich turned to me, scratching at his shaggy, ill-trimmed goatee, "how did it go with the creepy stalker dude Friday? Did you have to fend him off with mace like we suggested?" My head reeled a bit, trying to recall exactly what they were talking about- or guess what they might be referring to, if I had no memory of it. Could I have no memory of it? Could Ione have been involved in something that I hadn't? My head spun. "What...creepy stalker guy?" I asked tentatively, still finding it weird to be in their presence as a girl. Indeed, though we must have known each other for many years, I still noticed their eyes trail down to my chest every so often. I guessed Ione, like myself, didn't have the guts enough to tell them to look her in the eyes. How long had they been staring at her tits while she just sat there and took it, I wondered? Then I tried to remind myself that I was Ione and Ione hadn't existed until yesterday. Magic is confusing. "The one that was pretending to be a girl online and said he was going to come and visit you," Rich continued, finally looking me in the face. "I see you still have your limbs intact, so maybe he just asked you to babysit his kids for him while he entered a cosplay contest as Sailor Moon." He looked at Phil with a delighted grin. Phil threw a fry at him. "Uh," I was beginning to realize what they were talking about. It seemed so absurd because-well, I felt like it was what they would have been saying to me right now if I were a man. They were asking me about Melinda. Melinda was looking at me with a deer-in-the-headlights look, clearly not able to figure out what they were talking about. "Well," I went on feebly, looking down to my plate of food that I knew I wasn't going to eat, "th-this is Melinda," I gestured to her again as if introducing her, though she'd already introduced herself. Ironically, all three of them looked at each other, as if trying to solve this complex problem of relevance together. Melinda was the first one to get it and suddenly burst out into giggles, covering her mouth and looking anywhere but the guys. "Wait," Rich spoke with a hesitant, dawning voice, "you mean this is--" I buried my face in my hands, but nodded feebly. Just when I thought I couldn't have been more embarrassed by my friends. "Welcome to Hillsborough University," Phil said, reaching out to take her hand again, his fingers still greasy with french fry grease. She allowed him to take her hand, but watched me the whole time as his pudgy digits brought her hand to his mouth. "It is so nice to see our little Ione making friends!" "Have you and she been friends long?" she asked with a grin, still staring right at me. "Since before we realized she was a girl," Rich laughed. "Not that she acts much like one most of the time." "Yeah, put on a dress once in awhile, girl," Phil said with his mouth full of french fries. I felt a sick, sinking feeling at the grin Melinda was giving me. "I was just thinking the same thing," she said with that same wry smile and, suddenly, I felt a shiver run up my legs. I knew without looking that I was no longer wearing my pants. I groaned and thunked my head on the table. "Didn't you notice what she was wearing, boys?" she continued, gesturing to me. "Stand up, Ione, don't be ashamed!" I turned bright red, but knew that resisting her was pointless, so I stood up. All in all, it could have been worse. My jeans had been changed into a denim miniskirt that fell down to about my knees. The most uncomfortable part was seeing the expression on my friends' faces. I could just imagine what was going on in their heads. I'd probably never seemed like a girl to them, so seeing me in girl's clothing, even something so simple as a skirt, was probably enough to give them immediate boners. "How did we not notice that?" Phil asked, his eyes wide. Honestly, it was like he'd never seen a girl's legs before. He was staring at them with the same lewdness that he'd been staring at my chest with. I squirmed a bit, almost looking like I had to go to the bathroom, but neither of them let up. It was as if my knees were something strange and beautiful to them. "Beats me," Melinda said with a cryptic smirk. "It was pretty easy to get her to wear it this morning. Maybe you guys should try flattering her a bit. A girl needs to feel pretty before she dresses pretty." I shot Melinda a scathing look. She had no idea what Pandora's Box she was opening up by encouraging them to "flatter me more." I could imagine just what lengths they would go to to get me to come traipsing around in my underwear and, indeed, the wheels in their heads seemed to be churning as they looked at me. Though I hardly wanted them oggling my girlfriend, in a way, it was unfortunate that Melinda didn't garner more of their attention. It meant their frustrated libidos were focused on me. "So, Melinda," Rich said, turning away from me and leaving Phil to continue to stare at me as I swiftly sat down, "where are you staying?" "In Ione's room," she answered easily. I could see the gears continuing to turn in their sex-starved brains. Of course, they would think it unrealistically optimistic to believe that we had been doing anything untoward (in other words, to believe that we had been doing what we'd actually been doing), but any red-blooded male imagined slumber parties to be filled with pantied pillow fights and awkward sexual explorations. Our "slumber party" just happened to have contained one of those things. "So what did you ladies do all night?" Rich asked after a lengthy pause to allow his imagination time to recover from the overdriven state that it was put in. I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. I buried my head in my hands. There wasn't much of a chance Melinda was going to be discrete. "Well, we went to a dance club. Ione made out with a guy she'd never met and had an orgasm in public, then she drove me home and we made out and awkwardly explored our nubile, young, female bodies." I was right. I'm pretty sure my fingers were going to catch fire from the heat in my cheeks. If they couldn't see the red glow emanating from between my fingers, they had their eyes closed. Something unexpected happened, however. I heard laughter. I dared to peek from behind my fingers and saw Phil and Rich practically rolling in their seats with laughter. "I like this girl!" Phil said, practically spraying his lunch everywhere as he laughed. "Take video next time!" "You bet," Melinda grinned, giving me a wink. I wasn't sure what she was winking at me about-whether it was to relieve my fears that they'd believe her or as a promise that she actually would record our next love-making session. Knowing her, I would have put money on the latter. The rest of the meal passed awkwardly, but in an awkward way that I could actually deal with. My friends weren't what you would call the most socially conscious of people. Between Phil's penchant for stuffing his face and Rich's constant clumsy attempts at being debonair, I was pretty much in a constant state of embarrassment. But at the same time, it was actually somewhat refreshing. This was the Phil and Rich I knew, fumbling and socially awkward, but earnest. Sure, they occasionally stole glances at my chest when they thought they were being sneaky (they weren't), and occasionally their awkward flirtations were aimed at me, but aside from those times, I almost felt like my old male self. And then everything came crashing down around my ears. "There you are." I jumped a bit and swiveled around. I vaguely recognized the voice that spoke, but I couldn't exactly place it. Not until I saw who was approaching. Tall and lanky with dusky-hued skin, messy black hair, and bold, silvery eyes that seemed awash with relief, Quincy walked towards us with his slightly pudgy girlfriend, Makayla at his side. "You gave us a bit of a scare last night," Quincy intoned with a sigh. "I thought I told you to call me!" I glanced nervously to Melinda who actually seemed, for the first time since I'd known her, at a loss for words. "We were...uh, busy, Quincy. Sorry." Quincy frowned a bit, then some kind of terrible recognition dawned on his face, "Ooh," he said with a sage nod. "I gotcha," he gave Melinda and I a wink and I had to hide my face again. "Still, I wish you'd called. Nice to see you're back to your normal color." Melinda gave him an appreciative nod and a smile, though it was clear she still wasn't entirely sure who she was being addressed by. Her memories of the previous night must have been hazy, and rightly so. She had been all but catatonic when we left the club. Phil and Rich, meanwhile, were looking surprisingly awkward, not looking at the newcomers, who seemed to be on the opposite end of the social spectrum from them. Even the pink-haired, slightly portly girl on Quincy's arm looked "cooler" than them. "These your friends?" Quincy asked easily, holding out his hand to Rich, "Hey, Quincy Evans. Call me Q. This is my girlfriend, Makayla," he gestured to the girl at his side, who gave a grin and a nod. Rich gave him a quick nod and a rather feeble handshake, but otherwise didn't respond, leaving the introductions to me. "This is Rich," I said, feeling the tension in the air. "And Phil," I gestured to our dumpy friend at his side. "We've been friends for a long time." "Since we were kids," Rich said sharply. There was something challenging in Rich's voice, like he was rubbing in that we'd all been friends since our childhoods. "Awesome," Quincy said with no trace of patronizing. "I don't even keep up with friends from my younger days anymore. Hey," he looked to Melinda then. "I don't think I caught your name last night." "Melinda," she responded easily, "enchat?," she smiled at him. Quincy slid into a chair next to me, giving me a smile that didn't make me feel entirely comfortable but sent my innards aflutter nonetheless, "I was wondering if you guys wanted to hit the town tonight," he said to Melinda and I, all but ignoring Phil and Rich who, in his defense, I'd forgotten as well I'm ashamed to admit. I just couldn't look away from Quincy's eyes. "I thought we kinda hit it off last night until, y'know, the douchebag showed up." "He's asking you on a date," Makayla whispered into my ear with a grin. Quincy rolled his eyes, "I'm asking both of you," he said, which didn't necessarily dismiss Makayla's claim, only made it slightly more embarrassing...and interesting. "I don't get down to Hillsborough very often, and it's Sunday. I don't want to make the drive home until I have to. I've got to work tomorrow." I looked at Melinda with an almost pleading look, though not quite sure what I was pleading for, but she'd clearly already made up her mind. "We'd love to," she said with a mischievous grin. I jumped a bit when, almost simultaneously, Phil and Rich stood up, their trays in their hands. "Uh, wh-where you going guys?" I asked nervously. "We got a game today," Phil muttered, trying to sound cordial but I could tell something was bothering him. "See you around, Ione." Quincy frowned as the two veritably stalked off, "Hey, I hope I didn't offend your friends," he said, his apology entirely genuine, if not a bit confused. I couldn't help but feel a bit confused as well, nor did I have an answer for his concern. If he'd offended them, I wasn't entirely sure why. Thinking back, I tried to imagine what I'd be doing today if it weren't for Melinda, Quincy, and Makayla, if this had been a normal day as Ian. They might have invited me to their game, but even that was an uncertainty. I probably would have spent the day alone in my room, maybe online with Melinda. But the chances that I'd have actually spent it with Phil and Rich was slim. Had things changed since I'd become a woman? Had I simply been expected to join in their game? That seemed unlikely. I'd never seen girls at those things, though I was their friend. My head was swimming, but Melinda took my arm, "Come on," she said with a grin, clearly trying to dismissing my concerns with almost cool indifference. She couldn't know what the problem was, "Let's go have some fun!" I cast one last look at Phil and Rich, who were stalking out the door together before sighing and nodding. It wasn't like I could resist Melinda anyways, right? I kept telling myself to assuage my guilt as we walked out of the dining hall. "We parked out here," Quincy said, leading us out of the dining hall and into the chill autumn afternoon. It was going to be another frigid night, I could tell. "Since you guys already ate, I figured we could just troll around town for awhile. Hillsborough's always a blast, liberal college kiddies everywhere." Quincy seemed to be addressing me, which was strange considering Melinda had been so controlling since she'd arrived, though I suppose Quincy had only met me. Bbased solely on appearances, I certainly looked to be dominant of us. Brighter with my pale skin and blonde hair, taller, and larger all around, it was only natural to look at me like that. Oh how wrong he was. "So Melinda," I heard Makayla talking to Melinda behind us. Melinda seemed perfectly content to let Quincy continue to talk to me, which was somewhat troublesome, "you were looking kinda...gray when you left the club last night. What happened?" Quincy didn't immediately react to the conversation, though I saw him roll his eyes a bit. I got the impression he'd told Makayla to keep her mouth shut about that unless Melinda offered information about it. So much for that idea. Makayla was clearly as willful as Melinda. Melinda just grinned at her, "It's a secret~" she said playfully. "I got a little out of control, but I'm fine now." I grimaced. Yeah right. They just couldn't see her still-gray skin that I'd seen all night. "Well, what happened to that guy?" Makayla pressed on. "He looked a lot smaller when Ione here walked you out of the club." "Trick of the light," Melinda said noncommittally. "Swamp gas reflected off a weather balloon." Makayla gave her a wry grin and poked her, "I know you did something. Come on!" Quincy stopped and held the door open for Melinda and I. His car was an old beater, somewhat like Melinda's, but roomy enough for both of us to fit in the back seat. It was slightly cluttered with items that didn't seem to tell me much about this mystery man. As I climbed into the car, I gave him an odd look, as if remembering for the first time that I really knew nothing about him. His silvery eyes locked onto mine and his smile made my heart switch rhythms rapidly. I swiftly ducked my head and climbed in, trying to avoid looking at him again. My throat was too dry to offer a word of thanks. Melinda climbed in next to me just as Makayla was taking her seat in the front, "Come on Melinda," she pleaded. "Tell me what happened." Melinda just grinned at her, "He messed with my girl," she said as Quincy climbed into the driver's side. "I lost control and made him suffer for it." She certainly wasn't speaking with a great deal of anger now, however. She sounded almost playful. "Makayla," Quincy said somewhat warningly. "If she doesn't want to talk about it, she doesn't have to talk about it. We're just happy you're alright," he said, looking back to Melinda but glancing back to his girlfriend as he added, "right?" Makayla pouted, "Of course we're happy she's alright, stupid," she said, swatting Quincy on the shoulder. "No one said we weren't. I'm just curious is all!" Melinda didn't answer immediately, seeming to mull over something in her head. I'm pretty sure I knew exactly what she was thinking. She wanted to tell these two that she was a witch. What I couldn't figure out is why. Why would she reveal herself to two people she barely knew? She'd known me for two years before she confided in me. How did she know she could trust these two? Was trust even an issue? Maybe she told everyone she met. That seemed unlikely, but it certainly seemed like Melinda. "Can you guys keep a secret?" she asked after we'd driven in silence for awhile. Makayla immediately perked up, bounding to look back in the seat and nodding her assent quite vigorously. Even Quincy looked up into his rear-view mirror to watch Melinda as she spoke. Melinda, for her part, was neither nervous nor worried about them being unable to keep secrets. She looked almost giddy to tell them. "I'm a witch." Makayla's smile turned confused for a moment before she said, defiantly, but with an air of inexplicable belief, "Prove it." I could tell she was feeling the same way Rich and Phil had when they heard Melinda and I had spent the night together. Cautious optimism, though the optimal situation was unlikely. Makayla seemed perfectly willing, eager even, to believe Melinda was a witch. But she had to have proof. Melinda shrugged and I felt a sudden heaving on my chest. My shirt had disappeared. The force of and nature of the disappearance caused my breasts to bounce surprisingly and it took me a shocked moment to realize what she'd done. "M-Melinda!" I shrieked, my arms snapping up to cover my breasts. But at that time, my skirt and panties had vanished as well, so I was left fumbling with one arm over my breasts and my spare hand over my sex. Makayla's eyes were like saucers, staring at me with a look than I wasn't entirely comfortable with. At the same time, we all felt the car swerve and Quincy's own eyes took up most of the mirror. "How did you do that?!" Makayla squealed with excitement. "Ione's my thrall," Melinda said with a grin, ignoring my whining for my clothes back. "I control everything about her-her body, her mind, even her clothes. She's actually a man." Makayla's look changed imperceptibly towards even more hungry, "Ione's a dude?" she said in a husky voice, "like...cock and balls, pecs and everything?" "Well, the first. She was kind of undefined in the chest area," Melinda gave me a sweet smile. "Sorry sweety, you were." I whimpered pathetically. I dared to look up at the rear-view mirror. For some reason it made my stomach lurch to have Quincy know the truth. I was surprised that I gave such a pleading look into the mirror. His own eyes, however, were not reflected there any longer and my gaze dropped to my smooshed cleavage. "So you could, like, give her huge tits or a cock or something?" Makayla went on. "C-Come on!" I whined. "I'm not a doll you guys." "You kind of are," Makayla giggled at me. "That is awesome!" "Well," Melinda said, answering Makayla's question, "I could make her boobs bigger, but I can't give her a penis for a week. I locked her gender." "Why?" I was surprised to hear Quincy ask that question. His tone was unreadable. "Because she told me to," Melinda laughed. My cheeks burned even more. I was more ashamed of this than I was of being naked in the car with Quincy and Makayla. "I wanted Ione to know what it was like to be a woman. Ever since I'd known her, I'd gotten the feeling she was curious, so I wanted to give her a chance with no free way out. Real women can't just decide to become a man when they're being hooted and jeered at, or when they're bloated and cramped with their periods, or when they're pregnant." My crimson cheeks turned a pale shade of red as my vision spun around me. Was Melinda going to make me experience all of those things? "I wanted her to have the whole experience," Melinda said, leaning into me and nuzzling my shoulder. "Without a way to chicken out. I couldn't turn her back if I wanted to." Quincy didn't speak again, but Makayla did, "Could you do someone else? Make Quincy a girl! Is that what you did to that guy in the club?" Melinda's smile didn't fade, but she hesitated a bit, "I...am not supposed to do magic on people without a pact," she said nervously. "I can't change Quincy into anything unless we have a magical agreement, and that's not something I would ask anyone to do lightly." "What about the guy in the club?" Quincy asked, his tone still unreadable. At this, Melinda's smile did falter, "I lost control at the club," she said in a small voice. "I turned him into a girl in every way that mattered. I was going to go all out, but Ione stopped me...and it's probably best she did." The air around her flickered and glimmered and Makayla gasped. Melinda was sitting in the back seat with her pallid gray skin returned. She'd dismissed the glamour. "No one really knows what happens when we cast magic on other people without a pact," she explained. I was surprised to hear how grim she was about this. She seemed almost dismissive about it when we'd discussed it. I couldn't help but think she'd not wanted to worry me. "There's a curse on us all, a genetic curse, that only happens when we cast magic on other people. It's to stop us from exerting control over people and taking over the world. I guess," she shrugged a bit. Makayla and Quincy seemed to take all of this in and Melinda simply gave them the time, watching out the window as we drove along. "You're ok with this?" Once again, it was Quincy who spoke, and when I looked up, I was startled to see him looking into the mirror right at me. I shifted uncomfortably, wishing I had more arms to cover myself up with, but it almost looked like he was looking right into my eyes and not at my bare skin. "I-yeah," I said, trying to sound firm. I'm sure I failed, but he seemed to sense my intention anyways. I didn't want him to hold this against Melinda. I didn't want him angry at her. And I wanted him to know this had been my choice. "I chose to wear the ring. The one she uses to control me," I held up my finger with the silver ring on it, but snapped it back when I realized it'd been covering my breasts. "And I chose to...be a woman for a week. I was...curious, I guess. I never realized it, but, I was..." my voice trailed off as I glanced to Melinda who smiled at me and put her head on my shoulder. ...she still didn't give me my clothes, though. It was a rather unremarkable day compared to yesterday. It was already getting late by that point and, since we'd already eaten, we didn't have much to do besides, as Quincy put it, troll around town. Melinda finally gave me my clothes back, but I was fairly certain my skirt was shorter, and the style of my shirt showed off a lot more cleavage. "Man, you have nice tits," Makayla said crudely as we continued to drive around. Quincy seemed to have had a destination in mind, but he seemed almost distracted now. "A lot of girls would kill for those tits." "Makayla," Quincy sighed. "What, they would!" she protested. "I mean, they're not huge, but they're really nice. Come on, show me!" I blanched, "Wh-what? No!" I whined. But, of course, Melinda had other plans, "Ione, lift up your shirt." I yelped in surprise as my hands, on their own accord, snatched the hem of my shirt and lifted it. For a moment, Makayla seemed more interested in the act of controlling me than the actual breasts, but eventually she looked back to my chest. I glanced to the mirror and was simultaneously relieved and disappointed Quincy wasn't looking. Wait, why was I disappointed? "They are nice," Makayla said, nodding in approval that looked more platonic than sexual. "Did you tell Melinda to give you nice tits?" "I actually just did the girl thing," Melinda interrupted me. "Ione looks like what she would look like had she been born a girl. Though I could make them bigger if I wanted." I groaned and clenched my eyes shut, predicting what would happen before it did. I felt the weight on my chest inflate and grow heavier. I didn't look, but I could hear Makayla giggling, "That is amazing," she said. I was pleased and surprised that my breasts seemed to be going back to normal. "What's involved in a magical pact anyways? Could you do me?" I grimaced. I still couldn't put my shirt down. Melinda's smile faltered a bit at the question, "I...could," she said hesitantly. "But it's kind of something that we take pretty seriously. We don't take it lightly, you know? If I am allowed to cast magic on you, it would mean I would have complete control over you. Not quite as instinctive as Ione's here," she gestured to me, "because of our rings. But I've learned a lot of spells." "So?" Makayla shrugged. "I trust you!" Quincy sighed, "Makayla, what happens if Melinda decided she didn't like you? Or if you did something to piss her off, which is entirely possible given the fact that you're you." She stuck her tongue out at Quincy, but Melinda nodded in agreement. "That's the problem," she agreed. "The pact is easily closed, but what happens if something happens before it does? It's just something that takes a lot of thought and planning." "But you did it with Ione." Melinda blushed a bit surprisingly, "Yeah well," she muttered softly, not looking up. "I...I love Ione. And she said she loved me." "I do!" I said quickly, surprising myself with my firmness given the fact that I still had my shirt up. It was kind of comical, really. "I trust her. It's...it's uncomfortable sometimes," I stammered a bit, "but I've had a lot of...fun? I don't know if that's the right word." I turned a bright red and Makayla just grinned at us. "You two are cute together," she said, her tone entirely genuine. "Tell her to put her shirt down. It's kind of disturbing." Melinda grinned, "Put your shirt down, Ione." I did so happily. "Don't pretend you don't like it," Quincy said with a small smirk, though his tone was a little tight. "Just because I let you bring girls home doesn't mean I enjoy seeing naked girls," Makayla said with a tone of mock haughtiness. "I just want to prove without a doubt that I am better than all of them!" "You two...aren't exclusive?" Melinda asked curiously. "Not in the strictest sense," Quincy said with a small smile in the mirror. "I'm devoted to Makayla, but--" "Life gets boring if you have steak every night!" Makayla offered happily. "It's more fun with an open mind anyways. We live together, fuck each other, fuck other people, bring people home to fuck together. It's a good life." I turned a bright crimson. I almost felt like a fly in a trap all of a sudden. Melinda had almost the opposite look on her face. She looked at me with a look of utmost glee. But it didn't seem like we were going back to their home, which I assumed was in Danbury. For a time, we drove around Hillsborough making small talk. Makayla told us she had been a student at Hillsborough but dropped out in her junior year to pursue her photography while, when pried, Quincy simply said he was an auto mechanic in town. He wouldn't say anything more about it, and threatened Makayla with no sex for a week if she said anything more. "He's secretive about his work," Makayla said in a stage whisper. We didn't really do anything through the day and it was almost blissfully ordinary. By the end of the day, I almost felt normal. Oh, I could still feel the awkward weight on my chest and emptiness between my crotch, but it almost got to the point that I didn't feel like every boy was staring at me. "They should," Quincy said when we were sitting on a park bench and I'd confided, blushingly, that I felt like everyone was staring at me since I'd been turned into a girl, "but they're not." "I'll stare enough for everyone!" Melinda said gleefully, wrapping her arms around mine. Quincy leaned back, a small smile on his features. He seemed so much older than us, though his features were those of a young man. I guessed him to be in his late 20's, which certainly made him the most mature of our group. Though he could be playful like Makayla and Melinda, even teasing, he struck me as being more collected, more in control of himself and the situation. Not a flailing sort of control like Melinda commanded, but a more calm and collected assertiveness. The way he viewed the world, the way he viewed the situations he was in, made him look like he had a great deal more experience than the rest of us. I caught myself staring and, what was worse, so did he. I quickly hid my gaze and he just smiled. Melinda and Makayla had been chatting amongst themselves on the other side of me and didn't seem to have noticed. "Hey," Quincy said, interrupting their discussion, "Melinda. Can you magic up a fake ID?" She blinked, "Yeah," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her ID. "It's pretty easy to change print." Quincy looked at it and nodded, "Can you do the same for Ione?" "Of course." "Then come on," he said, standing up and offering me a hand. "We're going to a bar. I want some dinner." Melinda seemed keen for this idea, hopping to her feet and cheering like a child, but I could do naught but stare at Quincy's outstretched hand. He was looking at me with that same expression of calm, collective assertion. Like he was in control of a situation I hardly knew I'd found myself in. "Come on, Ione," he said softly as Melinda and Makayla started for the car, "let's go." I slowly nodded and, with a moment's hesitation, put my hand into his. It was warm and calloused, not at all like Melinda's soft, smooth things. They wrapped around mine with a strength I was not used to and he pulled me up with that same strength, causing me to stumble forward into him. He held me for a moment, still smiling at me. I could barely see through my own blurry vision. I stood there for a moment, unable or unwilling to move, with my body pressed into his before we heard Melinda call out to us. "Let's go," he said again, his voice a breathy whisper that carried as though he'd spoken it quite clearly into my ear. He released me from a grip that I hadn't even known he had and started for the car. I couldn't move for long moments, but when I could, I thought about simply not following them. The way he'd looked at me, the way I'd felt when his arm wrapped around mine, it filled my head with fuzz and I couldn't make heads nor tail about how I felt. I loved Melinda, quite fiercely. But the things I couldn't deny that I felt suddenly, in that moment, were so startlingly similar... I wasn't able to think about it any longer before Melinda called out a command for me to "get my butt in gear" and I was unable to resist joining them in the car.